


Trust Funds and a Prescription Drug Problem

by Respondeat_superior



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Corporal Punishment, Family Feels, Gen, Irondad & Spiderson, Peter Parker is a Little Shit, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:47:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24784099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Respondeat_superior/pseuds/Respondeat_superior
Summary: It’s nine months post-unsnapping and three weeks post-Tony telling the world that Peter’s the future of Stark Industries. Peter, 16 and sick of his life being planned out for him for the public’s viewing pleasure, just wants to have some fun. And if fun means a wild house party with a bunch of rich Upper East Sider’s, well, that’s just his new life. Anyways, Tony should be proud really- Peter’s just becoming more like him.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 24





	1. Chapter 1

Peter closed out of the People’s Magazine tab on his phone angrily, tossing his phone onto the bed beside him and flopping backwards with a deep sigh. Yet another “Tony Stark Out of His Mind” article in a long line of “Peter Who?” “Stark leaves company to random teen” articles that had filled the tabloids ever since Tony’s explosive announcement about “The Future of the Company.” Every time Peter even thought those dreaded words an unsolicited ‘dun dun dun’ ran through his mind. 

In the weeks since Tony had publicly called Peter the “future of the company” the articles had come flooding in. Picking apart his life, extrapolating out from the sparse details available on the internet, his goofy public Instagram account, and somehow, his academic reports (Tony was still hunting down whoever leaked those.) 

Another day another article reminding Peter just how insufficient he was, how unfit he was to carry on the Stark name. When they’d started to come out Tony had sat him down in the living room of the penthouse and delivered a short lecture on ignoring the press, reaffirming how certain he was that Peter could take up his mantle. Turns out five years of fatherhood had made Tony much more comfortable with emotion and direct communication. 

By the publishing of what felt like the 50th article, Tony had given up on those talks. He’d upped security on May’s apartment instead, introduced Peter to some of the daily security guards stationed around the property, and given Peter a lecture on avoiding the press. 

But hey, Peter scoffed into his pillow, looks like the press didn’t need his cooperation to keep publishing shit about him. People Magazine didn’t need his own words to convince the world how unworthy he was of one of the largest corporations in the Western World. 

Peter glanced over at his abandoned phone as it let out a loud ‘ding.’ Once upon a time he’d had a text alert set up to keep him abreast of any news articles with his name. That had long been disabled, so the latest ding was either a text message or his still-intact google alert for ‘Spiderman’ references. 

He groaned as he rolled over and grabbed the phone, dragging it close to his face. His state-of-the-art, unhackable, untraceable, decrypted yada yada yada phone that Tony had given him when this all started (okay, Peter would admit that it was actually crazy cool and he may have freaked out when he got it) lit up to a text from Gabe. 

The text beseeched him (beseeched, really Peter? He had a paper due on Monday about Christopher Marlowe’s Faustus for AP Lit, but he really had to lay off the 16th century literature) to come through to a house party that night. There were a lot of emojis included that Peter tried to decipher before deciding it was just typical Gabe mashing the keyboard, but the gist was that his friend Tatiana’s parents were out of town for some gala and she planned to throw a party he assured Peter would be ‘lit.’ 

Gabe was a newer friend. He didn’t go to Midtown Tech, he wasn’t a nerd with a hard-on for advanced robotics, didn’t stutter around cute girls, hadn’t lost anyone important enough to the Snap to be traumatized from it. He was the type of guy Peter would have sworn 3 years ago (or 8? Snap time was too confusing some days) that he’d never cross paths with. 

Yet cross paths they had, at some fancy fundraising gala for the Cooper Union. It was one of the first Tony and Pepper had dragged him to, five months post-snap. They’d arranged a custom suit be made for him, Tony had reminded him how to tie a tie, and out they had gone to ‘mingle,’ or as Tony called it, ‘to schmooze with some boring windbags.’ Peter had been sitting alone mumbling his way through small talk with some sixty-something widower who was all too interested in his background when Gabe had shown up at his elbow and assured the woman that Peter was desperately needed elsewhere, so sorry for the interruption, really! 

A bewildered Peter had been led into a back room filled with other well-dressed teens, lounging on couches that probably cost more than him and Aunt May’s whole apartment. This had been Peter’s first introduction to the Upper East Siders, but it certainly wasn’t the last. 

Gabe’s dad was a real estate mogul, his mom a stay at home wife who according to Gabe didn’t seem interested in the mom role very much. Him and his friends all went to some fancy day school that cost more than May’s annual salary and had a uniform policy that seemed to be very laxly enforced. They seemed intrigued at the newcomer to their circle, a circle that apparently had been pretty stable since they all began elementary school together at yet another school Peter had never even heard of. 

Some days, (well, most days really) Peter wondered how they could even have hailed from the same city. These kids spend spring break skiing in the Alps and had known since kindergarten which Ivy League school they’d be attending. While he was tinkering with legos in middle school they’d been learning to golf and touring Europe. Still, the gala-boredom club was welcoming enough, and he and Gabe had quickly followed each other’s Instagrams. Now they’d occasionally send each other memes, interspersed with rude comments about teachers and, from Gabe, bitchy stories about his parents. 

Still, this was his first party invitation. He’d met Gabe and the crew three months ago, but hadn’t really interacted with them outside of events. Their daily social circles most certainly did not intersect. 

He read the text again. The party started at 9pm, somewhere up near Central Park. It wouldn’t be too hard to get there, either on the subway (which he harbored a deep loyalty to) or with his unlimited Uber account a la the Starks. May was on an overnight shift and Tony and Pepper had mentioned some big meeting they’d be busy preparing for during the weekend. So really, it was lay here in bed reading about how the world thought he was a waste of space, or go to a party. 

Rolling himself off the bed and onto his messy floor, he figured it was a no brainer. Party here he came.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reminder: We’re a few months post-Endgame but Tony is alive. Peter has accepted his place in the Stark’s family, splitting his time between there and Aunt May, but recently Tony announced to the world that Peter is his heir and now his world is changing.

Everybody at this party seemed to know who he was. In fact, everybody at this party seemed to know who everybody was, and Peter suddenly felt like he was intruding on an alien planet where everyone could tell an outside from an insider. 

He’d wandered in with a swarm of tattily dressed teenagers, except Peter could tell it was that type of ratty you spend hundreds of dollars to achieve, not the type of ratty that the poor kids in middle school used to wear. He’d thought it kinda rude when they didn’t knock on the massive front door before going in, but then it became pretty clear that no one would have heard them anyways. The house must have had a professional sound system; the bass felt like it was running through Peter’s whole body every time it thumped. 

He’d found Gabe quickly, where he was hanging in the living room with a crowd of guys who looked around their age. He’d been boisterously drawn into the circle and introduced to the guys, who’d been thrilled to have Tony Stark’s protege in their group. Not for the wealth or the prestige though- nah, they all had that too. They wanted to know if the wild Tony Stark had really straightened up or if the whole thing was some ruse for the media. 

Peter blinked, thrown by the unusual topic. It sounded like all these guys knew Tony, the way they talked about his past. When he’d asked what they were talking about, one of the boys (Josh? Peter wasn’t sure) crowed in disbelief and asked if Peter hadn’t known? Didn’t he know that Tony had been one of them 20 years ago, that their parents had told them all about the wild times they’d had on the Stark yacht and in the Stark jet and in the Stark penthouse? Hell, some of them could even remember running into Tony at galas when they were kids. Apparently he was hard to forget since he was a loud drunk and always the life of the party. Then all of a sudden he’d dropped off the face of their world, reappearing instead at security briefings and fundraisers with grand plans to save the world.

Peter had always been a good chameleon, so he nodded and laughed along as they regaled him with tales of his adopted father’s past, tales he’d certainly never heard from the man himself. When they pushed a shot into his hand, his head swirling with thoughts like “I’m supposed to be Tony, right? That’s my future?”, he’d taken it without question. They shouted “To Stark Industries” as he tossed it back and tried not to grimace at the bitter taste. 

And things had devolved from there. 

One shot turned into one glass (honestly what even was it? Peter had asked but the hot girl at the bar thought he was joking so he laughed along and now he’d drunk three of them so he couldn’t just ask now) turned into too many to count, turned into a keg stand (and like, whoa that wasn’t as fun as those tik tok videos made it look) turned into the whole world swaying. He knew there’d been weed in there at some point too, but the whole night was already too hazy to remember.

Currently, it was who-knows-o’clock in the morning and he and Gabe were sprawled against each other on the couch of a giant living room, surrounded by wealthy teenagers who were either dancing or just having sex right there on the dance floor. Peter’s brain was too foggy to tell.   
Tilting his head toward Gabe he mumbled “You ever feel like your future is like, planned out for you? Doesn’t matter what will make you happy, just what will make other people happy?” Peter sat on the couch of the lavish townhouse, music booming in his ears.   
Gabe snorted into his drink before giving Peter a knowing look. “Who ever said you get to pick a future?”   
“But aren’t we entitled to happiness?”  
“What we’re entitled to is a trust fund, a house in the Hamptons, and a prescription drug problem. Happiness isn’t part of the deal.” Gabe shouted back, ticking off the count on his fingers like an enthusiastic teacher. The boy paused for a second before continuing “My whole future’s been planned since I was conceived. Fancy prep school, Dartmouth, law school, marriage to some blonde bimbo who’ll declare herself a philanthropist and live off my money for the rest of my life. Happiness isn’t an option.” He paused, raised his eyebrows suggestively, and held out his mixed drink to Peter. “You know what is an option? Saying fuck you to the parentals and enjoying your life while it’s still yours! So drink up Pete, before Stark Industries swallows you whole!”

Peter groaned before accepting the drink Gabe held out. This was his first house party, his first invitation to a real event since his introduction to high society. Gabe had been the one to save him from the monotony of gala fundraisers and pull him into the circle of rich kids he found himself with now. When Tony had found him later that night of the first gala, he’d given him a stern look and warned him to be careful, but hell, now Peter knew that when Tony was his age his friends were these kids, just one generation removed.

And right now, it felt like these glitzy kids (MJ coughed ‘white privilege’ every time they were mentioned) got him better than any of his real friends. And when in Rome?

Following their hazy conversation about happiness and drug problems, he’d lost track of time laying on the couch. Before he knew it, it was three in the morning and Gabe had disappeared with some girl who definitely wasn’t dressed for late October weather. 

Shrugging contentedly, Peter decided it was probably time to head home. He was in Manhattan, closer to the Tower than his apartment in Queens, and hey he was supposed to have lunch with the Starks tomorrow anyways. Smile on his lips, Peter nodded to himself before making his way to the front door. The doorman was standing out there, someone Peter hadn’t noticed in the gaggle of kids entering the house, and he gave the man a nod.   
“Would you like me to call you a cab, young sir?”   
“Nah but like, thanks man! It’s so cool you’re like, a guard here! Stay on the bright side!” The man sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before nodding serenely. No one paid enough to deal with drunk teenagers all night.

Turning right, away from Central Park and sparing a minute to revel at someone owning a house right on the park, Peter started walking toward midtown, home to Stark Tower. 

A block into the walk, a better idea occurred. Enabling his web shooters and pulling his mask on, which were now permanently worn via a nanotechnology bracelet, he let out a whoop as he swung crookedly up into the NY skyline. An exhilarating and mildly scary eight blocks later he arrived on the visitors pad of Stark Tower’s residential level. Things had gotten a little dizzy there as he was climbing his way from the 90th floor to the landing pad, but he’d made it up alright and grinned, happy with himself. As quietly as he could, which admittedly wasn’t all that quiet at this point, he identified himself to Friday and tip-toed through the living room toward his bedroom.

“Petey?” A small voice cut through the silence. Head whipping around, Peter’s eyes widened when he took in the sight of a sleepy Morgan Stark, standing in her unicorn pjs and hugging her stuffed bear in her arms.

**Author's Note:**

> Very loosely inspired by a binging session of Gossip Girl. 
> 
> And yes, I’m playing a little loose and fast with the ages of these characters, but hey, it’s an AU anyways *shrugs*


End file.
